Love Actually in the Potterverse
by Lucy Lupin
Summary: A crossover bunny myself and some others at FA cooked up. Features Oliver Wood as the jilted novelist, Harry and Hermione as the young married couple, Snape as the grumpy old man (now that's something new!), Tonks and Charlie Weasley as the co-stars...
1. The Writer and the French Maid

**The Players**  
  
Old Married Couple: Severus Snape and Madame Rosmerta  
Secretary: Pansy Parkinson  
Young Married Couple: Harry Potter and Hermione Granger  
Lovestruck Best Friend: Ron Weasley  
Minister of Magic: Percy Weasley  
Tea Lady: Lavender Brown  
Lovestruck Coworker: Neville Longbottom  
His Colleague: Ginny Weasley  
Co-stars: Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks  
Single Stepdad: Remus Lupin  
Writer: Oliver Wood  
French Maid: Gabrielle Delacour

Rock Star: Zacharias Smith

His Manager: Justin Finch-Fletchley  
Desperate Chef: Seamus Finnegan  
Long-Suffering Best Friend: Dean Thomas

**Disclaimer: **I do not have intellectual property of the _Love Actually_ film nor the _Harry Potter_ series.

**Author's Note:** I am a fan of constructive criticism and will not mind if you review with suggestions on how I could improve this fic. However, if your criticism is _solely _on the choice of the couples I use, it will go unheeded. There are many different pairings availible. I say "live and let live." Well, actually someone else said it before me, but anyway...

**The Writer and the French Maid**  
  
The offer of his long-time nemesis, Marcus Flint, to stay in his batch in Italy was the second most shocking thing that had happened to Oliver Wood that week. Under normal circumstances it would have been the first, but very little could top his long-time girlfriend, Katie Bell, running off with his brother.  
  
He was grateful for the offer. He really was. But the last person he wanted to see after three days of lived-in boxers, stale pizza and otherwise lolling around his now-very-much bachelor pad (he reflected bitterly) in self-pity was a Slytherin.  
  
"Civilised people typically require an invitation before calling on someone else's premises," Oliver observed grumpily, running a hand over his head in a futile attempt to flatten his coarse brown hair.  
  
"The beauty of being a Slytherin is that even when we haven't been invited, we can make the host feel as though we have," Marcus rejoined. "And civilised people typically shower every once in a while. Merlin, this place stinks. You should really reconsider your tactics. Gryffindors don't do moping very well. For one thing, it requires a certain class, which you sadly possess little of. Leave it to the Ravenclaws."  
  
"How's Alicia?" Oliver asked in an attempt to change the subject. Marcus grinned lecherously. "On second thoughts, don't answer that. You Slytherins have to read sexual innuendoes in everything."  
  
"And you Gryffindors have no imagination," Marcus grinned. Oliver scowled at him. "Well, as much as I adore your stimulating company, I really have to get moving. Since you were so kind as to enquire after the purpose of my visit, I will tell you. The way I look at it, you're moping. And when you get sick of moping here, with Alicia being your closest female friend, you'll come around to our place - and mope. Which won't do at all. For one thing, you clash terribly with the furniture even when you are paying attention to your personal hygiene, or lack thereof."  
  
"Get to the point," Oliver growled.  
  
"Do you not enjoy my company?" Marcus feigned a sulky pout.  
  
"No," Oliver said bluntly.  
  
"You Gryffindors," Marcus shrugged pityingly. "No sense of subtlety. Very well. Since you are so eager to be rid of my presence, I have a little place in the Tuscan region where you are welcome to stay and pour your lovesick little soul into whatever novel endeavour you next attempt. When you tire of this rancid little cave, you can mope there all you like." His noise wrinkled disdainfully. "For one thing, it's clean."  
  
Oliver took a moment to reflect. He was at a stalemate in the writing for his latest book, _For Love or Quidditch_. It was to be the final instalment in a series. The previous books had gone on the bestsellers' list, and his publisher had been totting this forthcoming one as the best. With all the madness of the last week, he needed a place with no distractions where he could clear his head and concentrate on getting things done. The batch was a generous offer. True, Flint had ulterior motives in offering it, but he had come to expect that from Slytherins. "You won't come to visit, will you?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
"Perish the thought," Marcus said.  
  
"Then it's settled," Oliver declared. "I'll take it. When can I move in?"  
  
"As soon as you're able," Marcus drawled. "Believe me, the sooner I get you out of the country so that I can enjoy the, shall we say, _company_ of my girlfriend without her fretting about you every ten seconds, the better. And do get a shower in the meantime." With a pop, he was gone.  
  
"The feeling is mutual, Flint," Oliver muttered. To the best of his knowledge there weren't any Slytherins in Italy, and that was good enough for him. For the first time in three days, he pulled himself off the couch and considered packing.  
  
Two days later, Oliver was in Tuscany. Two days and fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Upon opening it, he was tempted to slam the door shut again. "Oh, bloody hell."  
  
"Just a few last-minute instructions, and then I'll let you get back to moping," Marcus grinned.  
  
"You Slytherins really need to learn to wait for invitations," Oliver muttered.  
  
"If I did that, then I wouldn't get invited anywhere, and I would never leave my house," Marcus said. Oliver had to admit that he had a point. "May I come in?"  
  
"No," Oliver told him.  
  
"As you like it," Marcus shrugged. "Anyway, upon observing your lack of cleaning skills, I decided to arrange something that would make your stay more comfortable, and you therefore less likely to leave. Due to your discomfort with house elves - an unfortunate side effect of a friendship with Hermione Granger, now the lovely Mrs Potter - I have arranged for someone from the village to come and keep things in order." He stepped to one side, and a tiny blonde girl was made visible. Her blue eyes watched Oliver searchingly, yet she did not speak.  
  
"Er, hi, how are you?" Oliver asked awkwardly. Marcus shook his head. "_Come stai_?" The girl still looked at him blankly.  
  
"She doesn't speak Italian," Marcus explained. "Just like you. She's from France, and she's taking a semester's study leave to paint the countryside. She needed some extra _soldi_ and a part-time job, so I hired her." Oliver couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen this girl somewhere before. "You remember Fleur Delacour, the TriWizard Champion from Beauxbatons ten years ago?" Marcus continued. "This is her little sister, Gabrielle."


	2. The Costars

**The Co-stars**

"Nymphadora?" came the voice which proceeded the knock at the door. "In ten."

"It's Tonks, damn it, Tonks," the actress in question muttered, but without its usual force since all her energy was concentrated on struggling into her corset. It was a period piece detailing the supposed love affair between Godfrey Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw, and she had the female lead.

A second knock came at the door, and Tonks' spiky pink hair all but bristled. "That was a short ten minutes!"

"Wotcher, Tonks!" the voice belonging to the knocker called through the door.

Despite the corset boning digging into her ribcage, Tonks grinned. "Wotcher, Cho!" she called back, greeting her agent and friend. "Come in and give me a hand with this thing, will you? No wonder people thought that women during our founders' time were weak. They couldn't breathe."

"You got that right." The door opened and closed, and Tonks inhaled sharply as Cho Chang's fingers tugged on the bodice. "Sorry about that. They certainly had a high pain threshold back then, didn't they? Is that too tight?"

"It will have to do," Tonks gulped. A mischievous grin spread across her face. "You don't think we could get McMillan into one of these, do you?"

"I doubt it," Cho shrugged. "We'd certainly have some fun trying though." The smile left her face. "Um, that was what Ernie wanted me to talk to you about, actually. He said that during the last shot, you were looking a little, well-"

"Porky?" Tonks suggested.

"Rubenesque is the word I'd use," Cho said delicately. Her cheeks had gone pink.

"I bet it's not the one he used though," Tonks scowled. The deepening of Cho's blush confirmed this to be the case. "Oh, don't you look embarrassed. I know you're just the messenger. The nerve of him. I'm thinner that the majority of women outside of the industry! Pompous git."

"Perhaps he just thought that with your – um – ability, it's not such a huge demand to make," Cho suggested apologetically.

"Oh, don't defend him. You're too nice. He's a prima donna and you know it." Ernie McMillan was also a young and precociously talented up-and-coming director. Which was probably why he was a prima donna. The problem with being a metamorphagous was that she was hardly ever herself. After all, why show up for a date looking like her when she could go as Claudia Schiffer or Penelope Cruz? But as resentful as she felt about her talent sometimes, she had to concede that it had helped her out a lot in her current career. She had played everything from a six year old werewolf (her Golden Centaur-nominated role) to Cornelius Fudge in a dramatic reproduction of the late Minister of Magic's life.

Sighing, she walked over the full-length mirror and screwed her face in concentration. Seconds later elbow-length blonde curls cascaded down her back and green eyes blinked back at her. And she had successfully fulfilled Ernie's request and was now a full dress size smaller.

"Um, Tonks?" Cho was at her elbow. "You know, I don't think Ernie meant to go smaller _everywhere_."

"I can believe that," Tonks muttered. A second screwed up face later, and a full bust strained at her bodice. She looked at Cho and realised that her manager was struggling not to laugh. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Cho giggled. "You're right, he is a git. But you look constipated when you do that."

Tonks made the face a third time and laughed along with her. It really did look silly. "I thought it was fashionable for women to have flat chests in Rowena's time. Apparently men thought they were sexy."

"I can't believe there was ever a time men thought flat chests were sexy," Cho shook her head. "You know, perhaps that's a point you'd want to raise with Ernie since he _strives_ for historical accuracy." They looked at each other and laughed. Ernie had a very creative way of interpreting the facts, with an emphasis on "interpretation."

The earlier knock repeated itself. "Nymphadora, you're on."

"Coming," Tonks called back. The boning prodded at her, and she yelped. "Here's hoping I pass out five minutes into production."

Cho was looking at her as if she had suggested they both fly Hippogriffs to the moon. "Why don't you just make your waist smaller, if it's such a problem?"

"Right." Tonks' face in the mirror now wore a sheepish grin. "I was about to suggest that." Cho snorted in disbelief. She shrunk her waist several inches and basked in a now leisurely deep breath. "Let's go."

"Today you're doing the scene in which Salazar Slytherin propositions you in the school library," Cho debriefed her as they walked to the set, Tonks holding her skirts up out of the mud. Among other things, Rowena was said to be responsible for breaking up the famous Godfrey/Salazar friendship. According to History McMillan, that was. Salazar was played by Lee Jordan, a school chum of Fred and George Weasley and a one-time member of the Order of the Phoenix. Tonks liked Lee, and not just because she was certain it had been he who leviated Blast-Ended Skrewts into Ernie's trailer. "You know, the one where you run away from him and he tears your skirts. And I have been told that Lee ate an onion when he found out what scene you'd be doing, so don't say I didn't warn you."

"Really?" Tonks brightened. As they walked past the crew's food table, she reached out and grabbed a fistful of garlic bread. "Just a friendly reminder that he's only the second biggest practical joker on the set," she explained at Cho's shocked expression, then crammed the bread into her mouth. Soon it would be Lee's turn to make a face.

Ernie was holding court when they arrived. In between shrieks that he had ordered strawberry tea, not strawberry _flavoured_ tea, he was moaning to his assistant, "Susan, I can't take this anymore!" Susan Bones was patting his hand in a soothing manner, yet shared a wry look with Tonks and Cho when they arrived.

"Ah, Nymphadora." Ernie was all smiles upon noticing his star actress. "How is my leading lady?"

"Awaiting to be ravished by Salazar Slytherin." For her part, Tonks could only maintain her smile by picturing a cream pie being thrown at the director's head. "Where is he?"

Ernie moaned and buried his face in his hands. "There's a slight problem," Susan said by way of explanation. "Wardrobe ran out of fabric for Lee Jordan's costume and the second batch only came in yesterday afternoon. They worked through the night, but they were unable to finish it in time for shooting today. You'll have to do the love scene with Godfrey Gryffindor."

_Gr-reat_. Tonks was now doubly grateful she had downsized her stomach and upsized, er, her feminine wiles. Despite whatever _Witches Weekly_ had gushed about her being the luckiest witch in Britain when it revealed who her male co-stars were, love scenes were the pits. Not that she minded being in the all-together with an attractive male. She just wasn't entirely comfortable being in the all-together with an attractive male when fifty members of the crew were hovering around and a camera was positioned inches from her face and less, er, G-rated areas of her body. "So what's the problem?" she asked. "Just get Smith in here and we'll shoot." She had intended the garlic breath for Lee, but it wouldn't go entirely to waste on Zacharias. Sometimes she wished the lanky blond Hufflepuff would get shot in a way that had nothing to do with a camera.

"Zacharias is no longer with us." Susan had to raise her voice over a second moan from Ernie.

"He's kicked the bucket?" Tonks suggested hopefully. Cho gave her a pained look.

"No." The slight smile on Susan's face hinted that she may have shared Tonks' wish. "He's left the film. He's decided to revive his singing career."

"Singing career?" Tonks repeated. "You're too kind. Oh yes, I quite agree," she deadpanned after yet another wail from Ernie. "In his case being a one-hit wonder was still one hit too many. His voice is a terrible tragedy to revisit upon the wizarding world, especially with the festive season approaching. Now, now, Ernie. There's no need to fret. I'll tell you what - when his new single is released I'll buy you some earplugs. Wondrous Muggle invention – very effective. I couldn't have survived a life-in relationship with Viktor Krum without my pair." Cho, who had started to drink the rejected strawberry flavoured tea, choked into her cup.

"But we've done quite well given the situation," Susan said. "We've found someone to play Godfrey. An unknown, but very talented. And with a reputation of being easy to work with." Was it her imagination or did Susan give Ernie a sidelong look after that last part? Tonks sighed inwardly. Now she was going to have to kiss someone she'd never met, let alone talked to, before. It was a funny profession.

"And he still hasn't arrived on set!" Ernie bawled.

"His manager only finalised the contract this morning," his assistant hastened to reassure him. If Susan ever left her present job, she would be well-qualified for a position in the United Wizarding Nations. "I'm sure he'll arrive as soon as he's able. He's very punctual."

"I don't care if he's punctual!" Ernie burst out. "I want him on set now!" Tonks and Cho shared a look. Susan recommenced the patting of Ernie's shoulder. "Susan, do you not realise what a catastrophe this is?" Ernie spun around and grabbed her wrist. "To have an unknown male in the lead of a big budget film is career suicide! How will I ever justify this to the studios? How will I-"

There was a loud_ crack_, making the three women jump and Ernie shriek and topple backwards in his director's chair. A stockily-built wizard stood before them, blinking hooded brown eyes quizzically. It took Tonks a few moments to recognise him, and even then it was only from Weasley family portraits, never from an in-the-flesh meeting. "Charlie?"

Charlie Weasley bent down and pulled Ernie to his feet, who sniffed and began brushing off his coat sleeves. "Should I know you from somewhere?" he asked once his attention had turned to her.

"No, but I feel as though we have met before, I've heard so much about you," Tonks chattered on eagerly. Cho and Susan exchanged bemused looks. "I was in the Order with your brother, and you too, although we've never met personally. And I know Fred and George, and Ron, and Ginny – she's a great kid. Yes, I feel as though I have met you."

"Er-" Charlie stuttered.

"Tonks, you're in costume," Cho reminded her helpfully.

"Oops," Tonks grinned. To Charlie, she explained, "I'm a metamorphagous, meaning I can change my appearance at will without the aid of potions. Like an amigalus, except I can only change into another human, not an animal. And also unlike them, we're born, not made, but the training is still very difficult."

"Yes, I do believe she helped you out numerous times in her years as an Order member." Tragically, Ernie had started up again. "And now she devotes her talent to the still higher art of acting."

Again, Tonks only maintained her equilibrium by picturing a cream pie crashing into Ernie's head.

"So, let's roll, shall we?" the director suggested breezily.

"Er, now?" Tonks blinked.

"Yes, why not?" Ernie continued. "Let's do a little rehearsal now to make sure that Cameron here-"

"Charlie," the second Weasley interceded quietly.

"-has chemistry with my leading lady."

"But I haven't even seen the script for this scene yet," Charlie pointed out.

"Oh, don't worry about that, there's hardly any dialogue in this scene," Ernie assured him. Charlie looked more anxious. Tonks smiled inwardly. Evidently the boy did have some knowledge of the industry. "And I know your costume hasn't been altered yet, but never fear, your clothes wont be staying on very long. Now, no pressure, I just want to see how you two get along – Rosmerta," he called over his shoulder, "once the costume is ready, take Cameron here into the make-up tent and make sure that he has no blemishes on his derriere."

Charlie blanched.

"Just relax, man," said a familiar voice that made Tonk's heart sink into her stomach. "Think of it as an on-the-job perk."

"Lee, what are you doing here?" she said bluntly without even turning around. "You're not on until this evening."

"Oh, but darling, I'm never off," Lee said in a fake-showbiz schmaltz. Under duress, he had foregone his customary dreadlocks for ringlets for the role. "And I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Just adlib for now, Cameron," Ernie instructed, easing back onto his throne-like director's chair and idly shooing them into position. "The words are only secondary in importance for this scene. Aaaaannnd...action!"

Tonks as Rowena was standing by the fireplace holding a book. Charlie as Godfrey approached. Tonks very much as Tonks inclined her head slightly, suggesting that Charlie look at her book. Charlie did so, saw the script nestled in the pages and gave her a grateful look.

"I'm surprised to find you alone," he said.

"I'm always alone," Tonks said.

"But you're always surrounded by people. People who adore you."

According to her interpretation of the script, Tonks laid the book flat on the table and turned around to face Charlie for emphasis. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ernie nodding approvingly. "I can't imagine a predicament in which one feels more alone."

"And do you feel alone now?" Charlie was closer to her now. His stockiness was deceptive. He was actually quite tall, like most of the Weasley clan.

"I may do," she said coyly. "Come closer."

"Now?"

He had moved closer still. She could see little gold specks in his dark eyes. She already liked his earthly, honest interpretation of Godfrey better than Zacharius's aloof aristocrat. "Less so," she said. She had lowered her chin demurely, but in the manner of a woman who wanted it to be cupped and raised for a kiss. Their bodies were parallel to each other.

Suddenly Charlie took her shoulders and pulled her roughly towards him. This time Tonks's eyes widened in genuine shock – she wasn't expecting that from him. "Now?" His voice was gruff with frustrated passion. Tonks hesitated. "I don't want you to ever feel alone again, Rowena."

"I never feel alone when I'm with you, Godfrey," she said, and kissed him.

It wasn't the spark, the sharp edge of passion that Ernie insisted had existed between the two founders. It was coming in from the cold and gradually unfolding and surrendering to the comforting warmth of a slow, steady fire. Charlie's stubble tickled against her lips. She felt a tingle in her stomach that had nothing to do with her acting ability. This could be the start of a fruitful working relationship...

"Cut!" Ernie called. Tonks gave him a resentful look. "Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! You'll have every couple in a long-term relationship wanting to perform the Avada Kedvada curse on themselves with that display of raw chemistry. The most convincing cinematic pairing since Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh..." He broke up abruptly since the male half of the most convincing cinematic pairing since old Rhett and Scarlet had staggered away and thrown up.

Tonks was flabbergasted. Was she that bad of a kisser? She'd never had any complaints from Viktor, or Zacharias, or Luna – okay, so that last one was a joke. Behind her Cho was making strangled noises. Then realisation hit. "Bloody Merlin, the garlic! Oh, I'm so sorry, Charlie! I thought I was shooting with Lee today, and Cho told me that he'd eaten onions, and – I'm really, really sorry!" Behind her Lee was inconsolable with laughter. "And you will be too!" she snapped at him.

"It's okay." Charlie still looked decidedly green. "Think nothing of it."

"Talk about suffering for your art," Lee chortled.

"Okay, er, well-"For the first time Tonks had seen since shooting, Ernie actually looked embarrassed "-uh, everyone take ten, and get something to eat!"

"And Tonks can take some Tic Tacs," Lee quipped. Tonks was near the colour of one of the garish hues her hair regularly took on. She wanted to die...


	3. The Young Married Couple

**The Young Married Couple**

Next to Harry lay Hermione. Next to Hermione lay something oversized and striped. Despite the numerous nightgowns she owned (the more "imaginative" ones purchased for her by Harry), she always ended up commandeering his pyjama tops. But the pyjama top had been somewhat excessive for their previous activity, and had been ripped off with such force that half the buttons had sprayed across the room. He smiled and nestled into the mattress, looking forward to two more weeks of quality time – and similar incidents – with the woman he had decided to share the rest of his life with.

"Harry, I'm worried about Ron," Hermione said.

Harry sighed inwardly, but settled his new wife deeper in the crook of his room. Sheetplay had an effect of Hermione similar to what wine had on most other people. Afterwards she would confess that she had secretly thought he had been right during the argument they had that morning, that her NEWT results had not been quite as high as she had led everyone to believe, that she had made a mistake at work and been yelled at by her boss that day. Basically, she got honest. And vulnerable. "In what way?" he asked.

"Do you think he's become distant the last few months?" she asked.

Above her Harry frowned, but forced himself to adopt a teasing tone. "Of course he's distant," he said. "He's a man. The great non-communicators, remember? He'd watch the Chutley Canons lose 250-nil before talking honestly and openly about his feelings." That was a favourite accusation of Hermione's.

"Oh, you do like to tease," Hermione muttered, but without much heat. It was true enough. After the defeat of Voldemort - _his_ defeat of Voldemort – and the worming out of the last Death Eaters, he had discovereda playful side of his personality that he had previously lacked the time or means to develop. After all, being told that either you or Voldemort were curtains was not exactly conducive to jokes. He was happy he hadn't been the butt of that one. "Are you listening to me, Harry?"

"I am listening," he protested. "I was just trying to figure out where you got the impression that Ron was acting strangely. I haven't noticed anything wrong with him."

"It's not him specifically," Hermione expanded. She drew away from Harry, then sat up in bed and began to slip back into the pyjama top. Merlin, she was pretty. He couldn't stop looking at her. Not that it had taken him four years to notice that she was a girl, unlike Ron, but it had taken him much longer to realise that he wanted to marry her. She realised the top no longer had any buttons and contented herself with holding it closed. "It's the way he treats me."

The pyjama top disappointed him for two reasons. The first was that it covered her up. The second was that her act of putting it on made him realise that she was serious about a conversation. A serious conversation. When he had other things on his mind. As soon as he registered the thought, he told himself off for being selfish and resolved to listen to his wife. Or at the very least nod sympathetically every so often. No, that was bad. He was going to pay attention to her. Not the subtle curve of her belly, now darkened from the Malaysian sun, or her long, lean legs – but _her_. And he would start by taking his eyes off her legs. "Hermione, I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about."

"I can't believe you haven't noticed," she said. Her voice had risen slightly. "So typical of a man! You mean you've never wondered why he never misses a single Quidditch match that you two arrange to go to, but always finds excuses not to come to anything when he knows that I'm going to be there? Why he only invites me to things where it would be rude not to – like a New Year's party – and even then, he spends most of the night avoiding me? Why he kept on making excuses to be somewhere else whenever I tried to talk to him at our wedding?"

Harry blinked. "That's ridiculous. Why would he want to avoid you? He was the best man, remember?"

"I don't know why," Hermione said miserably, the fire going out of her. "I just know that he is. You can't really say no if someone asks you to be the best man at their wedding, and even so, I'm not sure he would have said yes if you hadn't been the one to ask him. Harry, I don't think he even _likes_ me anymore!"

Harry hastened to reassure her that it was just not true, and that Ron liked her fine, but Hermione would not be abated. "The three of us used to be inseparable. While we were in school they used to call us the "golden trio." We had no secrets from each other, but now it's like there's a wedge between us. I don't know what happened to us." She abruptly burst into tears.

"Oh, come on now," Harry soothed, pulling her back into his arms so that she now sobbed on his chest. Now that she mentioned it, Ron did appear to be avoiding her. "I'm sure it's nothing personal. Look, he's never had a serious relationship, and Dean tells me that things ended badly between him and Susan Bones. Perhaps he's just jealous of what we've got. And perhaps he feels uncomfortable because his two best friends are a couple, and he feels like he's got no one left."

"That's not true," Hermione sniffed. "He'll always have us. And I don't know what I can do to make him see it. Look, I don't want to cause trouble between the two of you. I know he's your best friend, but do you think you could talk to him and find out why he's acting this way? I'd hate to think that I've done something to hurt him without knowing what it is."

"No problem at all," Harry assured her. "He is my best friend, but so are you. You're my wife and I love you. Remember that. You're the two most important people in the world to me, and I don't like to think of you not getting along. Of course I'll talk to him." Truthfully he had been closer to Ron than Hermione during their Hogwarts years, but since the why-the-hell-not whim and the dare from Seamus Finnegan that had led to he and Hermione dating, she had become just as precious to him as Ron was. As far as he was concerned, they were both his best friends. How could you choose between someone who was brother to you in everything but blood and the woman you would love for the rest of your life? You just couldn't. The feelings he had for both were so strong, yet so different. Hermione snuggled closer to him, and despite his concern his stomach tightened in anticipation. Yes, very different.

"Thank you." Hermione's eyes were still wet, but at least she was smiling now. "And I love you too." They lay together in silence for a few moments, then Hermione said, "You know, I'm still a little upset."

"Yeah?" Harry said, feigning nonchalance. He knew where she was going with this one. This was a game he often played with Hermione Grang – Hermione Potter. He still got a thrill whenever he thought of her new last name. Their last name.

"There is something you can do to make me feel better though."

"And what's that?" Above her head he was grinning. "Make you a cup of tea?"

"No."

"Give you a massage?"

"You could start with that."

It was a struggle to keep from laughing. "Well, Hermione, what do you want me to do to cheer you up? I'm afraid I'm all out of ideas."

Hermione sat up and shrugged off the pyjama jacket. "Well, luckily for you, this time I have a few of my own."

**Author's Note: **Can't forsee when I'll be able to continue this since I'm currently living in Italy, but thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this.


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